


Grim Humor

by loveandallthat



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Halloween, Humor, M/M, etc - Freeform, ignored serious topics, mostly humor anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 02:45:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveandallthat/pseuds/loveandallthat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek lets himself be coerced into attending a Halloween party, which turns out not to be all bad. Stiles makes light of his problems, and people need more creative ways to surprise him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grim Humor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HalfFizzbin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfFizzbin/gifts).



> For Halffizzbin, because I asked what she wanted for her birthday and she said Halloween fic. And I took a while.

Derek does not know how he gets talked into these things, honestly. All he knows is that somehow after everything that happened, Lydia had still wanted to throw a crazy Halloween party.

At least she had told him he had no need to look for a costume; his regular clothes would be fine. Derek still is not quite sure if that was her way of being nice, or if she was trying to imply something about his wardrobe. 

He gets to the party two hours after it starts, when everything is in full swing. He makes a round, filled with awkward conversation for all involved, before he looks around to find an area without people. It sounds quiet in a downstairs rec room; either nobody who cares knows where it is, or it is supposed to be off limits and he was not informed. He heads down.

What he does not expect is to find the Grim Reaper lying stretched out on the couch.

“Derek?” Death asks, propping itself up to a sitting position with its scythe.

“I always thought I’d go down fighting,” Derek contemplates.

The mask is removed, and Stiles is staring up at him, which is, of course, unsurprising.

“Nice costume,” he jokes.

“I had permission,” Derek says, like it matters. “Why the Grim Reaper? Your heart so dark you became death itself?”

“Exactly. I wish Deaton had mentioned the bad fashion sense and niche market weapons when he explained dying and coming back haunted.”

“He does tend to leave out important details,” Derek half-jokes, and is glad to see Stiles smirk slightly.

“Nah, it was in the bargain bin, and I had the cloak from last year. You know, I don’t know if I'm more surprised Lydia invited you, or that you showed up,” Stiles says casually, leaning back and making himself comfortable.

“She said something about coming back for her when she was in trouble,” Derek replies.

“Oh, right. I thought we weren't supposed to talk about that. Wasn't it in the party guidelines?”

“I wasn't aware there were any, other than to try not to break things.”

“Weird, that’s what Scott said. Hey, wait, am I the only person who got guidelines? Lydia! LYDIA!” Lydia, predictably, does not hear this or come running.

“I guess that kiss meant nothing!” he yells at nobody in particular.

“How much have you had?” Derek asks, instead of going with the obvious, ‘you and Lydia kissed?’ 

Stiles holds up his beer, which is still about three-quarters full. “Just this. I'm not actually drunk; it’s just the first chance I've had to unwind in a long time.”

Derek agrees with the premise, but not necessarily the execution. This is not exactly his idea of relaxing, but he sits down on the other end of the couch and says nothing, assuming that either Stiles will keep talking, or there will be an awkward silence (unlikely) which would not bother him either.

“She didn’t kiss me for the usual kissing reasons,” is what Stiles says to break the short-lived silence. Derek looks at him, which is apparently enough to inspire him to continue.

“I might have been mid panic attack. And she might be a genius. Because it might have been a spectacular and very surprising success. You’d think it would make someone panic more? But holding your breath apparently works, so she forced it. Really I don’t know why she didn't just use her hand. Not that I'm complaining.”

“So being kissed without a say in the matter calms you down? I don’t know why that’s not surprising.”

“Well it was only the second time! The first time isn't something I like to think about anyway,” Stiles says, looking down at his bottle. “One of the virgin sacrifices,” he adds before Derek can ask, and drains half the remaining beer.

“I'm,” Derek starts awkwardly.

“It’s not your fault,” Stiles interrupts, holding out the remaining three-eighths of a beer. Derek accepts it, partly for something to do with his hands and party to prevent Stiles from finishing it. He takes a cursory sip, which is mostly for show. He is just attempting community service anyway. It tastes just as bad as he remembers, and he must make a face, because Stiles laughs.

“Give it back if you don’t want it,” he says, reaching for it, but Derek holds it slightly out of his reach. “Oh, yeah, like the remaining quarter of a beer is really going to change how I act,” he adds, leaning slightly more, before Derek just brings the bottle to his lips and swallows the rest in one go. Stiles’s eyebrows rise slightly. Derek just deposits the empty bottle next to the couch.

“No beer on the floor!” Lydia yells from somewhere upstairs.

“It’s empty,” Derek mutters, at the same time as Stiles yells back, “Oh, sure, now you can hear us!”

And Derek wants to feel glad that Stiles will probably stay here and continue not drinking, until he suddenly pulls out another beer from between the couch cushions, of all places, and gets to work on it. Derek just looks at him.

“What?” Stiles asks, resting the bottle on his lower lip. Derek does not want to sound like an overprotective adult authority figure. Or someone creepily invested in Stiles’s life.

“What am I supposed to do if you get drunk?” he asks, trying to play it safe.

“I mean, it wouldn't be your responsibility, but there’s always surprise kissing, apparently.”

“And have you turn out crazy and evil too?” Derek asks before he can stop himself.

Stiles stares at him. 

“Did you just make a self-deprecating joke?” he asks incredulously.

“It seemed so fun when you were doing it,” Derek answers dryly.

“Oh my God, I'm going to have to reevaluate my entire opinion of you,” Stiles says, mostly to himself. Derek just rolls his eyes and sighs.

“Just… there’s no need to get drunk.”

“How would you know?” Stiles asks, brow furrowed.

“If it’s true that it depends on your current mood, and you’re thinking about…” Derek starts, uncomfortable.

“And we’re back to that, are we? I'm fine. Maybe. Probably. Or I will be. It doesn't matter.” Stiles stops leaning on the far armrest to drop his arm on the back of the couch, causing him to lean toward the middle and look directly at Derek.

Derek can’t help but frown at those words, a little. He turns himself too, wanting to make his words believable. “It does,” he argues, suddenly sure of himself.

“I mean, not technically,” Stiles starts. “But it won’t actually affect anybody except me. Well Scott and Allison are going through it too, which sucks, but they’re probably stronger than I am anyway. Fighting-wise, I mean, but who am I kidding? Probably also mentally.”

Derek finds himself getting progressively more and more frustrated as the speech continues, clenching his jaw and never taking his eyes off Stiles, who seems to not be noticing.

“And Lydia has already been through a lot, and she’s fine, so I don’t think,” and suddenly he’s cut off when Derek leans in. And kisses him.

Stiles waits patiently, not moving, until Derek leans slightly back.

“Um,” Stiles says awkwardly, “I guess you might think I’d be used to that by now. Surprisingly, this is not the case. See? Still surprised.”

Derek just looks up and down his face, before standing to grab the beer bottles to toss them out. Stiles jumps up as he leaves the room.

“Wait! What does this mean? You just wanted me to calm down? You want me to go all dark side? Neither? Derek!”

**Author's Note:**

> You really can stop a panic attack by holding someones mouth closed and forcing them to breathe through their nose… it sounds mean and I don’t know if it’s foolproof but it’s true.
> 
> I say Stiles’s instead of Stiles’ because I believe all names should be treated equally and deserve an apostrophe and an s, damn it.
> 
> My first Teen Wolf fic, but don't go easy on me. I live (and write) for constructive criticism. You can find me as [loveandallthat](http://loveandallthat.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, and talk to me whenever about anything. (I'm easily coerced into fic writing.) And I'll love anybody forever if they yell at me to go study.


End file.
